Weight, eyes, fingers, voice, and a passkey. Some of them could be faked; some of them spoofed with his Torpid body. Probably not all.

A breeze rustled his hair as the door opened and the hermetic seal broke, and he passed through, reversing the process to lock himself inside. Because... one just never knew.

He opened the next door, into the well-appointed, if oddly decorated room.

A motorcycle. A favorite leather jacket. Weapons. A painting. A mask, with the hint of perfume on it. Familiar things... safe things. Things to open your eyes to.

He knelt beside the bed and smoothed soft, long, dark, hair away, and he kissed cold, unmoving skin. If everything went as hoped, decades were being shaved off of the dark journey... but it made the rest of the waiting no less painful. That was leveraged with other gifts.

Asa stirred his unique Blood, fortifying himself against the Beast; against losing himself in what he was about to do. He reached out again, taking the cold, lifeless hand between his own. Taking a breath and closing his eyes, he opened the mystical Dynastic connection, plunging, falling, surrendering to the thick, murky red haze where one felt as much --or more-- than they they thought. Dreams of hunger, of hate, where the roles reversed and the Beast was the master.

He gasped, an explosive sound, as if he had been drowning, fighting for control over himself again until the darkness was still there but not consuming him. His hands tightened on the hand he held, he spoke to the darkness. Into the darkness, through the darkness, a beacon to what had been lost. A single candle, but light, nevertheless.

I'm still here, waiting.

[banner]asa[/banner]
"Through The Trees", Ryan Levine